


A Gay and His Robot

by Oakley_the_Enby



Category: Original Work
Genre: I have no idea what I’m doing, M/M, Mostly Emotional Abuse, My first fic, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Slight swearing, So what out for that, a flashback of it, just a bit, not too much but that could change, original fic - Freeform, probably not too drastically though, sorry - Freeform, the heck is tagging???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oakley_the_Enby/pseuds/Oakley_the_Enby
Summary: Just boys being boys and going on fun adventures ;)Don’t mind me overly describing settings, I just like them ok-We’re starting off with some domestic fluffy stuff to warm up before we get into any action, so sit back and enjoy these soft gay boys sail the seven seas.





	A Gay and His Robot

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story and uh tbh I’m only posting it here to help me stay on top of it. I have no idea how long it’ll be or even what exactly will happen, I’m just going with the flow and figuring it out as I go. No beta, we die like men. I don’t really expect anyone to see this but just in case someone got lost and found this story, you’re welcome to stay just maybe keep your expectations low. Suggestions are nice and keep the creative juices flowing. I guess that’s about it. I put a warning if chapters have violence in them, explicit or not. Same with any ‘implications’. There won’t be any sex (I’m a sex repulsed asexual so I got you) but y’know innuendos could potentially happen at some point. Don’t quote me on that though, is set in mud. Anyway, if someone is there reading this, I hope you enjoy. If not then I guess I shall wish the void a good day.

*//Crash//  
A lamp smashed to pieces against a wall. A tall man, who would have appeared high-class if not for the hellfire blazing in his eyes and the sweat from his fury dripping down his contorted face to soak his rumpled suit, stood inside the doorway to the bedroom he had just burst into. He was heaving great angry breaths, his chest expanding and shrinking as he muttered curses under his breath. He reeked of alcohol, the scent rolling off him in crashing waves assaulting the noses of any who dared go near him.  
“Stupid wench,” he hissed. “You’ll learn. Oh yes, you’ll learn your place and you’ll learn some respect. I’ll beat it into you myself if that’s what it takes.” He straightened himself and calmed his breathing. “Until you decide to follow the rules your generous father has set, this door shall remain locked. Under no circumstances will it be opened, unless you ring this bell,” he threw a small bell across the room, “signaling your want to apologize.” With that he spat on the floor and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it before he stormed away.  
Little Caspian sat in the middle of his bed trembling with fear. After a few minutes of silence to be certain his father was gone, he shakily crawled under the sea of blankets. Huddled in a tight ball and squeezing his stuffed rat like his life depended on it, he began to cry. Softly at first, for fear of being heard, but soon his tiny body was wracked with sobs. A short while later he started to calm down, his body too week from lack of food and his throat hurting too much to continue. He could hear the ocean crashing against the shore outside, the moon peaking her pale face through his window to keep him company. At some point exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning all night long. No one bothered to wake him the next morning as he wasn’t getting any breakfast, nor any freedom.

He had been seven at the time.*

Caspian zones back in to what he was doing, the awful memory fading to the back of his mind but never far away, as though to taunt him and laugh at his misery. He continued to polish the new gear he had got for his best, and only, friend Carlos and glanced out the small circular window of his on-board workshop. The sun was only just beginning to rise, the sky going up in early morning flames and reflecting off the sea’s glassy surface like Caspian admiring his own reflection. He had been woken a few hours prior by what he thought were the angry screams of his father but were, in fact, the hungry screeches of a seagull. He had been to shaken to even hope of getting more rest, so he had instead begun working. He had already stacked the sheets of metal in the corner and straightened out the new load of old screws from yesterday’s haul. When your best mate and only sailing partner was mostly made of metal it was smart to have extra parts ready to go.  
A metallic clunking sound could be heard at that very moment as Carlos made his way past the workshop to the small kitchen, intent on getting his breakfast. Caspian’s small smile at the familiar noise quickly became a frown as a long, exaggerated cream attacked his eardrums. Carlos has taken a rough knock the week before during a rough patch of weather and one of his cogs has been jarred out of shape. It had taken a frustrating amount of searching various markets for the correct part at a price they could afford, and even after finding it Caspian still had to do some fixing-up on it. He let out a quiet sigh and then groaned as he stood and stretched his stiff joints, his left elbow popping as usual. Blowing out the lantern he had been using and swiping the cog off the table, he strode quickly toward the irresistible smell of breakfast.  
Poking his head in the doorway he found Carlos frying up fish and eggs, faintly humming to himself as he did. Caspian allowed himself a soft smile before silently making his way behind Carlos and whispering, “Morning, Bolts,” into his ear. Carlos nearly took his head off with the frying pan.  
“Posterior of Poseidon, Cas, I could’ve ruined breakfast!” Carlos’s frown deepened as Caspian nearly passed out from laughter. “Once you’re finished wheezing up a lung I’m throwing you overboard.” Caspian wipes the tears from his eyes. “Oh, please,” he said, “You and I both know you’d just jump in to save me anyway.” Carlos continued frowning but the twinkle in his eyes told Cas he was right.  
“Keep dreaming, Pirate Boy.”  
Caspian ignored the nickname and instead opted for trying to snatch a piece of fish from the pan, only to have his hand slapped away.  
“People who try to give their friends heart attacks don’t get breakfast.”  
Cas leaned back and shrugged nonchalantly. “Guess you don’t want this then,” he said holding up the new cog. It shone brilliantly in the early morning light and Carlos’s face lit up when he saw it. “You fixed it already,” he said surprised. “When?”  
Caspian rubbed the back of his neck. “Eh, y’know, just this mornin’.” Carlos narrowed his eyes. He knew damn well what that meant. “You should’ve gone back to sleep.”  
You should’ve come to me.  
“Those damn seagulls sure didn’t think so,” Cas replied.  
Not necessary. Not this time.  
Carlos’s eyes softened and he turned back to the food he was making. “Shoot ‘em down, I’ll cook ‘em up for ya.”  
Cas smiled at that. “Maybe I will. You can make anything taste good, even those sky rats.” It was true, Carlos was an amazing cook. He often sold street food when they made trips on land and they usually could make one hell of a killing off it. Carlos waved him off. “You gotta bring me the bird first, then we’ll see.” Even though Carlos wasn’t look at him, Cas knew he was smiling.  
“Maybe after I fix your busted chest.”

Having finished breakfast the two boys found themselves in Caspian’s workshop. Cas was poking around inside Carlos’s chest cavity trying to remove the broken part. Emphasis on ‘trying’.  
“Bolts, you gotta stop squirming, I can’t get a good hold of the cog.”  
“Can’t help it,” Carlos mumbled. “Feels weird having someone poke around inside your chest.”  
Cas hummed in response, too busy concentrating to reply properly.  
“Aha!” He said as he finally pulled out the dented piece. “Got the little bastard.” Now came the hard part: putting the new gear in correctly. They were there for far longer than Cas had hoped. Maneuvering the piece inside had been one thing, but trying to get it to click into place without falling was another. Plus, Carlos wriggling didn’t help. Eventually Cas managed to time his movements with the rest of the parts that were still moving. As the whole system finally ran, good as new, Cas sat back and sighed happily. Carlos stood and twisted from side to side, touched his toes, and did a cartwheel. Not a single clink, creak, or clank. His grin engulfed his whole face. “Thanks, Cas! You’re a life saver.”  
“Yeah, well,” Cas said, “what’re friends for?” He looked out the window again. Well passed noon. “We’ll reach D’althi in a few hours. You still wanna ship around when we get there or wait till tomorrow?”  
“Let’s wait,” Carlos said. “I’m planning on dessert tonight and if we shop I’ll be too tired to make anything.”  
“Fair enough. You want help?”  
“What’s this? Pirate Boy offering to help? What’s the catch?”  
Cas rolled his eyes. “No catch. Consider it an apology for taking so long to fix you.”  
“Hmm,” Carlos hummed. “In that case, I dub thee my sue chef.”

As they pulled into the D’althi docks, the sun slowly sank below the horizon. The people selling things at the on-shore market were beginning to close their stands and the few shoppers still out were headed inland, arms laden with baskets of trinkets. Sitting on the railing of the deck Cas swung his legs above the ocean that was gently rocking their ship, Redemption. The setting sun illuminated his face in a reddish light and his light brown eyes practically glowed amber. The wind blew whisps of his hair about and his face was adorned with the smallest of smiles. Carlos came up beside him and leaned his forearms on the railing. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”  
“Nothin’,” Cas answered. “Just enjoying the view.”  
“Yeah, me too,” Carlos said, not looking away from his friend. Before he could be caught staring he said, “Come on. This dessert won’t make itself and I was promised a helper.”  
Cas smiled at him and hopped into the deck. “Alright then, Bolts. Don’t let me screw this up.”  
“Will do,” Carlos laughed as they went below deck. “And you don’t forget to buy me extra gears tomorrow.”


End file.
